


Bag a Bat

by solomonara



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Bloodshed, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Dick in Distress, Emotional Comfort, Gen, Jason Todd is Red Hood, M/M, Medicinal Cuddling, Protective Jason, Swearing, can be read as platonic or romantic as you prefer, possible pre-slash - Freeform, the ruin of a perfectly good pizza, touch-starved Dick, unwanted physical contact, wanted physical contact
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 23:36:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15130205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solomonara/pseuds/solomonara
Summary: Jason's known about the betting pool for a while now: Successfully seduce a Bat and win enough cash to go from minor thug to major thug overnight. It's thoroughly unscrupulous and kind of gross, but Jason has never worried about it much. After all, the overprotective nature of the extended batfamily is enough to discourage most would-be players. But that same protective streak is exactly what's driven Nightwing into the arms of someone who might just win… unless Red Hood has something to say about it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Redzik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redzik/gifts).



> I legit can't tell if this is shippy or gen, so I tagged it as both. Reader's choice! If you want to read it as romantic, go for it. If you want to read it as platonic, that is also reasonable. Kudos to my beta, [DragonSorceress22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonSorceress22/pseuds/DragonSorceress22) for putting up with my fretting about relationship ambiguity.
> 
> Written for Redzik for the 2018 JayDick Summer Exchange!

Jason had a ritual. Whenever he was away from Gotham for a while the first thing he did when he came back was hit a couple of seedy bars. Not as Red Hood, just as a regular old vaguely disreputable guy. It was like easing himself back into the waters, getting a feel for the temperature before taking a dive.

The Tailfeather was perfect for this. It was run by a no-nonsense lady named Griffin who was well aware that her clientele were mostly minions with aspirations – those who'd been in the thug business long enough that they might be looking around at making it on their own. The _smart_ thugs (you had to be, to survive long enough to even think of sticking your head up a little higher). They had the best gossip.

The place had a couple booths, a ratty old pool table, indifferent overhead lighting, and absolutely no jukebox or sound system whatsoever, which Jason appreciated. It had no pretensions. People were here to drink and bitch so what else did they need?

Jason was sitting at the bar, a beer in front of him that would last him several more hours if he needed it to. Griff didn't mind; she knew he'd leave enough money for three times as much as he actually drank, and a tip besides. He'd already picked up some decent talk about who was hiring and which bosses had pissed off the help lately. He was actually thinking of calling it a night when the front door slammed open with the distinctive sound of someone who had a lot of confidence and no style wanting to make an entrance. Jason didn't even bother turning around, but the people sitting at the largest table in the place suddenly sent up a huge racket at the newcomer's arrival.

"Ooo, look at the shiner on you, man!"

"What, no date tonight, Casanova?"

"Whatsamatta, Adams, boyfriend rough you up?"

"His little brother actually," Adams said, sounding way more satisfied than a proclamation like that would typically warrant. Jason glanced over his shoulder as the table hooted and pulled the newcomer in to sit.

Adams was a big guy, at least as tall as Jason, with a build that read _enforcer_ in extremely stereotypical vocabulary. His hair was blond, close cropped, his face annoyingly familiar despite the blossoming black eye. Jason turned back to his beer before his lip could curl in derision. Adams over there – thug name _Double A,_ of all the stupid things – had been a low-ranking peon in Black Mask's gang. Ambitious, violent, and clever enough to get out before he got killed. Jason turned an ear to his conversation. Not that it was particularly difficult to overhear; Adams had something to crow about.

"And that, my friends, makes four," Adams was saying. "That pot's as good as mine."

"Not until you get your man to bed," the lone woman at the table reminded him. "And I've got a hundred says that ain't happening."

Adams snorted. "Get ready to lose, then. I'm heading over to Bludhaven tomorrow night, once this eye really has a chance to turn colors."

"Nightwing's into that shit, huh? Who'd'a thunk it."

Jason blinked. _What_.

"No, moron," Adams said. "I want him to see what that crazy kid did to me. My _hero_ gets clingier every time I show up looking all distressed after one of his buddies tries to scare me off. So far it's just been threats, so imagine what he'll do when I show up with an actual bruise. Probably give me anything I care to name."

Based on the tone of the laughter, that statement had probably been accompanied by a leer. Jason ran his thumb through the condensation on the beer bottle, frowning.

"Hey Griff," Jason said, his voice pitched low so as not to carry. Griffin cocked her head at him. "Tell me you're not still running that Bag a Bat pool."

"Why, you want in?" Griffin's voice was gravelly, always sounding strained thanks to years of smoking.

"Nah, man. Thought you gave that up ages ago. What if a Bat finds out?"

Griffin shrugged. "They haven't so far, and a healthy betting pool is good for business. Good clean fun. You sure I can't tempt you?"

Jason made a show of considering it for a moment. "Not on the main event, but hook me up with the books will you?"

Griffin obliged with a grunt, giving Jason an overview of bets currently running.

The Bag a Bat pool had been operating way longer than Jason had. The rules of the pool were simple:

  1. Attempt to seduce a Bat.
  2. Survive shovel talks from at least four Bats other than the target.
  3. Get the target Bat to agree to go to bed – absolutely no force permitted.



If someone fulfilled all the requirements, they won the pot. Given that any time someone broke or damaged something at the Tailfeather they were required to contribute to the total, it was… sizable. And had been growing for years since, as far as Jason knew, no one had ever won it. You'd have to be a special kind of idiot to even try, but every once in a while someone decided this would be an easy way to get some start-up capital.

Rumor had it the game had begun after Catwoman had staked her claim on Batman years ago. Some said it had started before that and that Catwoman had only pursued him in order to win the pool, but Jason doubted it. If that were true, the game had to have been different back then. For one thing, there hadn't been four other Bats to attempt to discourage unsuitable relationships at the time Bruce and Selina had taken up with each other – though imagining a tiny Dick Grayson in green booty shorts giving Catwoman a stern talking-to about Batman's virtue was definitely amusing.

But no, this wasn't a game for A-listers. Tempting as it might be for criminals of Adams' ilk, the pot wasn't anywhere near large enough to attract the attention of anyone higher up the food chain. Jason was 99% sure the Bats didn't know about it, either; they were just that predictable with the threats and intimidation any time someone got close to one of their own. That was part of why Jason paid it very little attention. Whenever someone got drunk enough or stupid enough to try it, if they weren't shut down by whatever Bat they were targeting they quickly had the fear of God put into them by the others.

Who were apparently losing their touch, because Adams didn't seem deterred.

"Thanks, I think I'm just gonna sit back and watch the show on this one," Jason said with an easy grin that didn't at all mirror the sour feeling that had settled in his stomach.

Griffin shrugged. "Suit yourself." Going for the pot was one thing, but of course any time someone made a go of it a great deal of money also exchanged hands on the side: plain bets on whether or not the person would succeed, bets on how far they'd get, bets on which Bats would step in, and on and on. Jason had briefly considered putting down some cash on Adams losing, but it was too safe a bet and he didn't want himself, even in a civilian guise, associated with this game right before Red Hood was about to interfere. Because the more he listened to Adams boast about his plans, the more certain he was that Red Hood would _definitely_ be interfering, and soon.

"Whatcha gonna do after he puts out?" someone asked Adams.

"Guess it depends how good he is," Adams laughed. "Maybe I'll keep him around for fun after I use my winnings to start my criminal empire. And anyone who bet on me winning has a spot in my gang for life!"

A general cheer greeted this and Jason stood abruptly, unable to stomach any more. He dropped a wad of cash on the bar and stalked out.

 

Adams wasn't hard to trail to Bludhaven the following night. Red Hood tracked him to a rooftop in a decrepit factory district; lots of old brick smokestacks and blown out windows. Red Hood had also made sure to clock Nightwing's location. Adams was early for their rendezvous, standing at the edge of the roof with his hands behind his back like he was surveying his empire. Perfect.

Red Hood slipped out of the shadows and came up behind him on silent feet, only deliberately scuffing a boot when he was practically on top of Adams.

Adams turned with a warm smile that quickly shifted to shock. "Hey lov— you're not Nightwing."

"Nope. Way worse," Red Hood growled.

"What the hell is the Red Hood doing in Bludhaven?" Adams demanded. He seemed to have suddenly realized he had no room to back away. Red Hood was crowding him enough that he'd have to shove past if he wanted to get away from the ledge. Given Adams' bulk, he might try it anyway. Red Hood hoped so.

"At the moment? Beating up one of the biggest jackasses I've ever had the misfortune to encounter," Red Hood said.

"Hey man, I got no beef with you. You took out Black Mask, fine, I've moved on."

"Yeah. Heard about how you're moving on. Got some opinions about that."

"Bludhaven ain't your territory," Adams blustered, going so far as to jab a finger at Red Hood's chest. Jason grinned behind the helmet.

Next thing Adams knew, he was dangling over the edge of the roof upside down, Red Hood holding his ankles.

"You want to play Bag a Bat? Welcome to hard mode," Red Hood snarled. Adams made an incoherent squawk of fear and flailed.

"Ahem."

Red Hood looked over his shoulder to see Nightwing standing behind him, arms crossed, looking unimpressed. "Oh, hey 'Wing. What's up?"

"Pull him back, Hood."

"Oh come on. You can do so much better than this."

Nightwing snapped out an escrima stick. " _Hood_."

"Fine, fine." Red Hood heaved Adams back up, spilling him to the rooftop and giving him a kick in the ass when he tried to scramble to his feet. "Scram, coppertop. Nightwing and I got some talking to do."

Adams gathered the tatters of his dignity and stood, drawing himself up slowly. Red Hood supposed that most people would be intimidated by his height and bulk but as it happened Adams was the least dangerous thing on this rooftop by a wide margin.

"And leave you alone with my boyfriend? I don't think so," Adams said.

"Adam, it's fine," Nightwing said. Red Hood couldn't quite put a name to the feeling that curdled through him at the sight of a slight blush on Nightwing's face, but it wasn't a good one. "I'll meet you in a little while. This is just business."

Adams looked like he wanted to argue – he'd just had his ass handed to him in front of the guy he was supposed to be seducing, after all – but in the end he weighed Red Hood's reputation, and the advantage he'd get by playing the injured party against Nightwing's soft heart, and gave in. "Fine," he said. "But you holler if he tries anything."

The corners of Nightwing's lips twitched slightly. "Sure."

Adams stalked to a rickety old ladder bolted to the brick and climbed down. Jason watched him go with a sneer that no one else could see. No style at all. When he was gone, he whirled on Nightwing.

"His name is _Adam Adams_?" he demanded.

"Oh, nice to see you did your research before swooping in to scare him off," Nightwing retorted.

"I didn't need to research him, I know him. He's former Black Mask, N."

"So are you."

"I was undercover!" Red Hood exclaimed, pulling off his helmet so he could properly glare at Nightwing through the secondary domino underneath.

"And Adam is turning over a new leaf. You think I didn't look into him? Yeah, he's got history, but he's trying to do good." He looked pointedly at Red Hood, who scowled. "That's how we met," Nightwing went on. "He saw me fighting a gang in Tail's End and jumped in to help."

"And did you need the help?"

Nightwing smirked. "Not by a long shot. But it's the thought that counts."

"So he picked a nice safe opportunity to make himself look good and get an in with you."

"What the hell would he have to gain? He's been a perfect gentleman – which is more than I can say for you and the rest of the family. Was that black eye from you?"

Red Hood grunted. "I wish. Either Red Robin or Robin." He thought for a moment. "Probably Robin."

Nightwing pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just great. I don't know how much more of this he's going to put up with."

"Oh, probably a lot. Lemme tell you about a little game called Bag a Bat."

He did, in detail, not leaving out the things Adams had said in the Tailfeather last night. Nightwing's look of disbelief faded into shock and then – to Jason's great discomfort – hurt, before settling into a neutral non-expression.

"And how long have you known about this… game?" Nightwing asked, his voice carefully controlled.

"Uh," Red Hood said. This was a trap, he knew it was, but Nightwing didn't need any more answer than his hesitation.

"Why didn't you _tell_ us? God, Hood, the others – _Robin_ —"

"Kids are out of bounds," Red Hood assured him quickly. "And I didn't think any of you would be stupid enough to get roped in!"

"Right," Nightwing said. "This is my fault. Of course it is."

"That's not what I meant," Red Hood said.

"Whatever," Nightwing said, turning away from him and stalking to the edge of the roof, already reaching for a grapple.

"Where are you going?" Red Hood asked.

"I at least owe him the chance to explain himself."

"You _what_? Oh no you most certainly do not," Red Hood spluttered, inadvertently channeling Alfred for a moment. Nightwing cast a tired look over his shoulder.

"Relax, little wing. I'm not stupid, as much as you seem to think so. This is most likely going to be a break-up talk."

He shot off into the night, leaving Red Hood wondering why doing the right thing felt so shitty so much of the time.

 

Jason followed him, of course. He told himself that it was because he didn't trust Adams, but if he was being completely honest he wasn't too sure about Nightwing at the moment, either. He obviously wasn't thinking clearly if the thought of breaking up with someone like Adams made him sad. And he'd definitely looked sad.

Nightwing probably knew he was being followed. Red Hood was only putting in a perfunctory effort at stealth. He wanted Nightwing to know he had backup. Anyway, Nightwing didn't have to go far. Adams was waiting for him a few blocks over on the roof of a building with a brick stairwell enclosure jutting out of one corner. He was leaning against it, hands jammed in his pockets against the wind, every line of his body reading _anger_.

Red Hood replaced his helmet and settled himself inconspicuously behind a ledge one building over to watch. Nightwing swung to the rooftop gracefully, flowing from flying to walking with no discernible pause. Adams shoved himself away from the stairwell's wall as Nightwing approached, hands leaving his pockets so he could cross his arms. It made his biceps strain at his shirt sleeves. Jason rolled his eyes.

Nightwing's back was to Red Hood so he couldn't read his lips, but he watched Adams' face as he realized Nightwing knew his game. Adams hid his guilty surprise quickly and resorted to bluster, gesturing angrily at his own face. Nightwing looked down. He'd _better_ not be apologizing for whoever had given Adams that black eye, given the circumstances.

Adams stepped forward into Nightwing's space, but Nightwing didn't give ground, looking up (and up) to meet Adams' eyes and gesturing widely with both arms. Then Adams grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him into a crushing kiss. Red Hood had one gun out of its holster and aimed before blinking away the green sparks dancing on the edges of his vision and reminding himself that Nightwing would not thank him if he suddenly found himself coated in blood and brains.

Nightwing broke out of the kiss and shook his head. He put one hand on Adams' chest to push him away and turned, clearly intending to leave. Adams grabbed his wrist and whirled, flinging him against the stairwell enclosure and penning him there between his massive arms.

A head shot was too good for this guy. Red Hood holstered the gun and leapt the divide between the buildings with only a little tug from his grapple to help out. By the time he rolled to his feet on the rooftop a second later, though, Nightwing had kneed Adams in the groin, used the resulting flinch to slide a foot behind his heel, and shoulder checked him. Adams might have been big, but off-balance that did him no good. He fell backward, and while he wasn't seriously injured and might have gotten right back up, staring down the barrel of one of Red Hood's guns made him reconsider.

"Get out of town," Red Hood said.

"I can handle this myself, Hood," Nightwing said, putting a hand on Red Hood's arm and pushing it aside. He glared down at Adams. "Get out of town."

Adams spat to the side and got up – slowly. "You'll regret this."

"Believe me, I already am," Nightwing said, layering his voice with disgust.

"Don't worry, Double A," Red Hood said amicably. "You can always run back to Gotham. In fact, I hope we can chat some time. Just you and me."

"You a Bat now, Hood?" Adams sneered. "Is he that good? Can't wait to see how the guys react. Big bad Red Hood whipped by the pretty boy from Bludhaven."

"My reputation can take it," Red Hood said. He adjusted his aim very deliberately downward. "Can your kneecaps?"

Adams swore at them a little more, but he was backing away so Jason just watched him go until he made it to the stairwell door and slipped inside. Jason put his gun away and unlatched the helmet again.

"Man, imagine having to take stairs and ladders any time you want to get on or off a rooftop. How exhausting." He turned to Nightwing with a grin, but Nightwing was staring off absently, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. "Hey," Jason said, suddenly concerned. "Are you hurt?" He pulled one of his gloves off with his teeth and ducked around Nightwing to get a look. There was no visible wound, but Jason ran his fingers lightly over the nape of his neck and up into his hair, looking for lumps or blood.

Nightwing shivered and took a deliberate step away. "No," he said, turning to face Jason. "I'm not hurt."

"Sure you didn't hit your head or something? 'Cuz, I mean…" Jason gave a significant look to the door Adams had used. "Really?"

Nightwing scowled and crossed his arms. "Not your business, Jay."

"Oh, sure. Because this all would have gone _swimmingly_ if I hadn't stepped in," Jason said.

Nightwing scoffed. "Yeah. Everyone's so quick to rush to my defense the minute I make a connection outside the family," he said, heated. "And where are you all the rest of the time? I'm alone out here, you know, until the family hears I'm seeing someone. You know how many potential partners can weather a bat-shovel-talk? Or a _Wayne_ shovel talk, for that matter? Because it's not a lot, Jay!"

"Whoa, whoa," Jason said, putting up one hand in a mollifying gesture. The other was occupied holding his helmet against his hip. "Come on. I get it, the family is overbearing and smothering. Preacher, meet choir. But there's no way I believe you're alone out here, N. You pick up friends like fleas."

Nightwing sighed, exasperated. "There's different kinds of alone. Look, never mind, it's over, mission accomplished. I'm sure you have places to be and people to intimidate." How Nightwing could move so quickly from a dead stop, Red Hood would never know, but in two strides he was off the roof and swinging away into the night. Red Hood scowled and jammed the helmet back on. He _did_ have people to intimidate, and after this whole clusterfuck he was seriously going to enjoy it.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The following evening Dick was feeling slightly less miserable, having had a long bitch-fest with Babs. Not that Babs wasn't occasionally guilty of the same bad behavior as the rest of the family, but he had to talk to _someone_ about it and Babs got him. That, coupled with a quick, early patrol and the prospect of the rest of the night in with bad TV and a very soft blanket made a decent band-aid. Not a cure, but. Well. He'd gotten along this long, he'd get along a little longer.

Then his phone rang. His burner phone, the one he gave contacts who might have to get in touch with Nightwing. Dick poked his head a little farther out of the cocoon he'd made of the comforter on the couch and squinted at it where it glowed on the coffee table.

It didn't display a name – Dick wasn't that indiscreet – but he recognized the number. Adam. He narrowed his eyes at the phone until it stopped ringing and then cautiously lay back down, snugging deeper into the blanket.

It wasn't entirely a surprise when the voicemail alert chimed a minute later, but it was still annoying. Dick snaked an arm out and snatched up the phone, of half a mind to delete the message without listening to it, but in the end curiosity won out.

"—on, fuck, look, I know we didn't part on great terms but you gotta help me, they think we're still— they grabbed me— shit, they're coming, I'm at the docks, _help—_ " A clatter and the message ended. Dick stared at his phone.

"…shit."

 

Jason felt kind of stupid showing up at Dick's door unannounced with a pizza, but… well, fuck, feeling guilty was worse than feeling stupid and he had a hunch that Dick would be staying in tonight.

A third knock unanswered would seem to be proving that hunch wrong, though. Jason frowned and dug out his phone, balancing the pizza with one hand.

"Heyyyy Babs … yes, of course I want something, when else do I call? … Dick's location. … No, it's not for _crime,_ I'm standing outside his door and I want to make sure he hasn't drowned himself in ice cream or something. … Really? Guess I'm picking the lock then … oh sorry, you're breaking up, bye Babs!"

He hung up. Babs would be annoyed with him about that but he'd make it up to her. For now, he wanted to put this pizza down, and according to Barbara, Dick _had_ been planning on staying in tonight, which meant he was ignoring Jason and his magnanimous gesture of goodwill.

Jason looked up and down the hallway, set the pizza down on the floor, and broke into Dick's apartment. It was laughably easy, and there was no deadbolt to get around. Jason was going to have a word with him about that. But… not just yet. Because the apartment was empty.

 

Adams was, indeed, at the docks – him and about fifteen ne'er-do-wells. He was not, however, their victim. He was their leader. Nightwing had fallen spectacularly into his trap and was currently panting on the concrete floor of a warehouse under the metal mesh of a net that had been, until a few seconds ago, electrified.

"I want you to know this isn't part of the game. Thanks to your enforcer I won't be collecting on that. But neither will anyone else – not with you, anyway," Adams was saying. Nightwing's muscles spasmed. The insulation in the suit hadn't been quite enough for the charge in the net. He wondered if Adams had accounted for that, or if he just hadn't cared if the shock killed him.

"So, you got a choice, gorgeous," Adams went on. Two of his buddies dragged the net off of Nightwing while two others grabbed him by the wrists and dragged him a short way to a support pillar. They cuffed his hands around the pillar behind him, leaving him to slump forward. The cuffs were simple. He'd be out of them in a jiffy… just as soon as he had the strength in his hands to do something about them. Right now his muscles felt like they had after the time he'd helped Babs move her library – about twenty boxes of novels, textbooks, and notebooks – from one apartment to another on a day the elevator was busted.

"Option one," Adams said. Oh good, he was still talking. Nightwing tried to focus. Talking was good. All he needed was time. "We end things here." He drew his handgun and nudged Nightwing's forehead with it. "Blammo. Dump you in the harbor, no fuss, no muss. Option two…" Adams crouched in front of Nightwing and took his chin in his huge hand, forcing him to look up. "You look the other way while I set up operations here in the 'Haven. I'll be unmasking you, of course, for leverage. And if you're _very_ good and keep the other players off my back, we can still mess around."

Nightwing let out a tiny little snort of a laugh and Adams' grip tightened painfully. Behind his back, Nightwing flexed each of his fingers.

"Play coy all you want, pretty boy. Don't think I didn't notice how starved for it you are. I'd have you begging in— FUCK!"

Nightwing had wrenched his face to the side and bitten down on Adams' fingers, hard. Adams reared back and Nightwing grinned up at him. "Gonna have to go with option one. No contest."

There were a few snickers from the rest of the gang and Adams' face reddened. "Fine," he spat, standing back dramatically to point the gun down at Nightwing's head. Nightwing worked the cuffs with the picks built into his gloves. He had to time this just right…

The explosion of gunfire came too soon and Nightwing's heart attempted to exit via his throat. It took him a second to realize he was fine and decidedly not shot. The same could not be said for Adams, who was on the ground clutching his leg as blood pooled beneath him. The rest of the gang looked around wildly at each other trying to figure out what had happened.

"Guess your kneecaps couldn't take it after all," Red Hood said, emerging from the shadows between two shipping containers. Fifteen guns were trained on him in an instant and Nightwing could practically feel him roll his eyes. Red Hood dropped a smoke bomb, the thugs opened fire with predictable results, and then Nightwing's hands were free and he was dancing through the gang, disarming and dropping the first two from behind. When the others turned to see what the commotion was in their ranks, Red Hood swooped down from above to back him up.

It was over in moments. Nightwing called in the warehouse's new inventory – sixteen injured and bleeding attempted murderers, ready for pickup – while Red Hood stalked over to Adams.

"So I think I heard something about dumping a body in the harbor," Red Hood said conversationally while Adams seethed in pain. "Be a shame to let such a well-thought-out plan go to waste." Nightwing eyed him from a small distance away, but he was still leaving his tip-off for the few non-corrupt cops in town so he didn't interfere. "Seriously, how stupid can you get? Nightwing _always_ has backup." He nudged Adam's leg with one booted foot and Adams howled in pain.

"Hood," Nightwing said warningly, ending his call to the police.

"Yeah, yeah," Red Hood said. He grabbed up the cuffs Nightwing had left on the ground after escaping and snapped them around Adams' wrists, making sure they were just a little too tight. "Let's get. Unless you have to stay and play nice with the boys and girls in blue?"

"I think they can handle it from here," Nightwing said, already heading for the door. Red Hood cocked his head. He would have picked the quick, dramatic exit-by-skylight, but whatever. It was Nightwing's town. He followed him out.

As soon as the door slammed behind them, Nightwing slumped and Red Hood caught him, automatically slinging one of his arms over his shoulders to prop him up.

"Ow," Nightwing said.

"What the hell did they do to you?" Red Hood demanded, looking back over his shoulder at the warehouse. The only thing keeping him from storming back in there and kicking in some heads was the fact that he was bearing most of Nightwing's weight. He'd probably planned it that way, the bastard.

"Electric shock. I'll be fine, just… everything hurts."

"Okay, hang on. I brought my bike, I'll cart your ass home." He steered Nightwing in the direction of the alley where he'd left it.

"How'd you know?" Nightwing asked. "That I could use the assist, I mean."

"Um, sheer dumb luck," Red Hood said. "I went by your place and it was obvious you'd left in a hurry, so I tracked you here. Let me guess, Adams guilted you out here somehow."

"Thought he was in danger. Because of me. Stupid, I know."

"Well, what can you do. Front or back?" Red Hood asked, eyeing the bike and trying to gauge Nightwing's strength.

"I can hang on," he said. Red Hood shrugged and threw a leg over the seat, holding the bike steady while Nightwing climbed on behind him and slid his arms around his waist. Red Hood peeled away from the docks just as flashing blue and red lights descended on the area.

 

Red Hood parked a block away from Nightwing's place and hauled him over rooftops and through his own bedroom window to avoid the neighbors. Nightwing immediately began shedding bits of the suit until Jason felt decency demanded he leave the room. He hovered awkwardly in the living room for the few seconds it took Dick to pull on sweats and a t-shirt and stumble out.

Dick noticed the pizza congealing on the coffee table almost immediately. "Did you… bring me pizza?"

"Well it wasn't Santa Claus," Jason said. "I was thinking about what you said, and I thought… I dunno, seemed like a good idea. I can get out of your hair."

"No," Dick said quickly. "Stay. If you want." He peered inside the pizza box and wrinkled his nose. "On second thought, you're _required_ to stay. I'm not eating bacon and green pepper pizza."

"The other half's pineapple, you weirdo. Though who wants pineapple when there's _bacon_ on offer…"

Dick snorted, but he was already grabbing a piece for himself and shoving the blanket on the couch out of the way. Jason dropped his helmet on the ground, deposited his gloves and domino in it, and nudged it under the coffee table along with a few of his pointier bits of hardware and equipment so that he'd be passably civilian if anyone burst in.

"Don't you dare leave any of those guns here," Dick said.

"I'll have you know I'm an extremely responsible gun owner," Jason said. "I'm not just gonna _forget_ one." He settled on the couch with his own slice of cold pizza, one arm stretched across the back and one foot propped on the coffee table.

A silence fell between them, but it was the sneaky kind of silence that was actually full of words. Jason's least favorite kind. "So," he said, because if the air was gonna be full of words, they ought to be _spoken_. "You good?"

"Oh, yeah," Dick said. "I'm good."

Jason frowned at him, really looked at him for the first time since the warehouse. Dick was curled on the opposite end of the couch, his legs drawn up, his arms in tight. Very unusual for Dick, who was usually all sprawling, open body language. "You don't look good."

" _Thanks_ , Jay."

"No, I mean… something's off, man. You're usually all over people. Now you look like I'm invading your space and I'm three feet away from you."

Dick's shoulders relaxed incrementally, as though he'd just noticed how tense he was. "That's… it's different in costume."

Jason chewed on that while he chewed on his food. That could be true. He wasn't actually sure the last time he'd seen Dick casually, out of the field. But this still didn't track. "I don't get it," he said. He never had a problem admitting that. The easiest way to gain information, he'd found out a long time ago, was to profess ignorance in front of someone who liked being helpful.

Dick gestured vaguely with a slice of pizza. "It's just, out there, it's easy. You have to be tactile. And we're all covered in armor neck to foot anyway, so… I don't feel bad about it. It's not the same as touching skin."

Jason remembered Nightwing running his hand over the back of his neck after Adams had kissed him. A hand on the bare skin above the collar of his suit. "Oh," he said. He was starting to see the shape of Dick's loneliness more clearly. "But you can always— I mean, we're not gonna bite," Jason said. "Us Bats, I mean. I don't think any of us are the type to freak out about casual touch." Jason might, if it was unexpected, but with Dick… he always kind of expected it. Or, wanted to expect it.

"I know I could just take it," Dick said. "Doesn't feel right, though. I just…" Dick scrubbed the heel of his hand across his forehead. "I want it so badly it feels like taking it for myself must be wrong. Like I'm using people."

Jason stared at him, perplexed, then turned so his back was against the armrest, one leg folded on the couch while the other rested on the floor. "Yeah, I see what you mean," he said finally and Dick shot him a surprised look. "I mean, I see what you meant when you said you were alone out here. Your brain's tied in a knot from talking to itself. Here," Jason said, leaning forward and reaching out a hand to him. Dick looked at it for a few moments, then cracked a smile.

"You asking to hold my hand, Jay?"

"You telling me no, Dick?"

Dick shrugged and turned toward Jason so he could drop his hand into his, casually. Very casually. Jason held it up over the couch cushion between them. "Now what, exactly, are you taking from me?"

"I dunno, your personal space?"

"You think I couldn't take that back if I wanted?"

"If you're asking who would win in a fight—"

"Stop deflecting," Jason said, sharp enough that Dick shut up. "Sorry. It's just, you keep talking about how you want contact. You don't, though. You _need_ it. I know a little something about wants versus needs, and about being stuck in your own head."

"My arm's getting tired, Jay."

Jason grinned at him and gave a little tug on his hand. Dick glanced a question at him, so Jason tugged a little harder, until Dick was unfolding from the corner of the couch. One last, quick pull and Dick sprawled forward, pretty much face-planting in Jason's chest. He immediately pulled back, awkwardly trying to balance on the squashy cushions, but Jason put a hand gently on the back of his head. "It's okay," he said. "You can stay there. If you need to."

Dick froze, hands on either side of Jason, and looked up at him, searching his face for any trace of mockery or discomfort. Jason just looked serious. His hand was still on Dick's head and he brushed his fingers gently through his hair. Dick closed his eyes and Jason's hand lifted abruptly.

"I overstepped," he said. "Sorry, I'll back off—"

"No," Dick said, dropping himself back down to Jason's chest and wrapping his arms around the small of his back in a sort of sprawling hug. "You're right."

Dick felt Jason's laugh more than heard it. "Go ahead and say that again."

Dick grinned, his cheek pressed against Jason's shirt. "You're right. You're the wisest little wing I have ever met and I don't want you to move. Unless you _want_ to—"

Jason's hand ran down Dick's back, then up again, bringing it to rest on the back of his neck. "I'm good here."

Dick sighed, a happy sigh this time, long enough that it seemed he was deflating. The tension went out of his back and shoulders and his arms relaxed around Jason, fingers finding the hem of his shirt where it rode up just slightly, rucked up by the press of Jason's back against the arm of the couch.

"Can I—"

"Yeah," Jason said. "Whatever it is, yeah."

Dick practically purred and swept his hands up under Jason's shirt, fingers splayed against his spine. "Mmm." He closed his eyes, savoring the warmth of skin and the steady rise and fall of Jason's breathing under his cheek.

Jason's thumb drew a circle against Dick's scalp. He sank down a little further against the arm of the couch, stretching out his leg and getting comfortable. "So… guess we're sleeping here?" Jason said, a smile in his voice.

Dick murmured some sort of response into his stomach. Jason assumed it was a yes. Shifting marginally, he snagged his phone – just barely in reach on the coffee table – and took a picture of Dick two-thirds of the way to sleeping peacefully on him. He texted it to Babs to make up for hanging up on her earlier and to assure her Dick was fine, then settled in, tilting his head to rest against the back of the couch. He continued to trail his fingers through Dick's hair and thought about explaining this to the rest of the family, about yelling at them for letting it get this bad. But it was hard to maintain a decent righteous fury with Dick sleeping on him, so he let it go. For now, this was all Dick needed, and Jason was happy to provide it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Since this was written for an exchange, there was a prompt! Redzik was amazing and gave me a huge variety to choose from. The prompt I went with requested a scenario in which underworld criminals are placing bets on who can successfully seduce Nightwing (who is desperately lonely because the batfam keeps intimidating away potential love interests), with Red Hood stepping in when the other bats aren't enough to scare one thug away. I hope it satisfied!


End file.
